


Leaving

by kokouriko (kokoliko)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cussing, Hurt No Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Seriously Yuri Has a Potty Mouth, Rejection, Sad Ending, Yuri has a potty mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 07:59:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13477134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokoliko/pseuds/kokouriko
Summary: Yuri tries to stop Victor at the airport before he boards his flight to Japan.





	Leaving

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally a remix, but i guess some fanfic authors really don't like getting fanfic of their fanfic (??? clearly i have no idea how any of this shit works) so i 50 shades of greyed this fucker and shat it back out as a freestanding fic and am never going to try and make friends here ever again

"Yuri, you're fifteen," Victor says gently, after he's coaxed his racing heart back to normal. "You shouldn't say things you don't mean."

They're standing in the soaring geometric terminal of Pulkovo Airport, all glass windows and angular ceilings, Yuri's aquamarine eyes piercing through steel, inches away from Victor's face. From the clench in his jaw and the flare in his nostrils, it looks like Yuri's pissed, seething at the implication that he doesn't know any better. But Victor can see the fifteen-year-old's fists balled up at his sides and knows that this look means Yuri's scared.

A few minutes before, Yuri had torn his way down the airport, past security somehow, a blur of leopard print pants and blond hair and retro-90s CGI neon tiger-printed hoodie, screaming Victor's name at the top of his lungs. But now that he's gotten Victor's full attention, his voice is quiet.

"I fucking know what I said," Yuri retorts, shaking with an anger that doesn't quite make it to his eyes. "And you fucking know what I meant when I used that part of your short program in my free skate."

It had been a shock to see Yuri skating the last part of his step sequence at the Junior Grand Prix Final; every turn, twizzle, and drag was one that Victor knew by heart. The shock amplified into waves of numb realization when Yuri ended it by launching himself into a triple flip that Victor knew could have easily turned into his signature quad.

In that program, Yuri had all but signed Victor's name into the ice with his body, and he did it better than Victor himself.

Victor sighs, runs through his short silver hair with one hand, and puts down Makkachin's crate with the other. He adjusts the collar of his black turtleneck, then crosses his arms and watches Yuri's face warily. He can't let his real affection for the boy show, can't let on that his heart is breaking to pieces inside his chest.

"You only copied it because you had no better ideas," he says evenly, which makes Yuri's eyes narrow.

"Don't lie to me, you literal fucking piece of shit idiot," he snarls. "You know why I did it. I could have skated to any other fucking shitty choreography that Yakov jerked out of his dick and turned it into gold, but I used some of yours to show you that I-- I wanted--"

The words die on Yuri's lips, and he sighs loudly, jamming his hands into his tracksuit pockets.

"Actually, you know what, I don't give a fuck anymore, you asshole. I don't need to prove to anybody that I can skate your own shitty programs better than you can. Definitely better than that fucking copycat Japanese pig you're about to get on a plane for. Go get fucked in the mouth."

I deserve this, Victor thinks. After all, he broke his own heart himself. As soon as he'd met thirteen-year-old Yuri two years ago, all lanky legs and arms and angry eyes, Victor felt a strange slipping of something in his chest, the lurch of a heart about to give way. But he hadn't dared name the emotion that overwhelmed him then; it took him months of heartless hookups to quash the feeling and bury it deep within himself where no one could find it. He hid it because acknowledging the alternative would have been disastrous-- that he might have finally experienced what it's like to fall in love.

Since then, Yuri has grown a few more inches in height and hair and quite well into his foul-mouthed fury. Now, at fifteen, he skates with perfect precision and grace combined with astonishing strength, aquamarine eyes burning with such violent passion that Victor can't help but be drawn into the flames.

He smiles a wry smile.

"You are far too young for me to take you up on that offer, anyway," he can't help but opine to the blond, daring to tap him on his pert nose with an outstretched finger.

"Then fucking stay here and wait," Yuri says automatically, the closest he'll ever get to pleading. His nose and cheeks have turned pink. "I'll be sixteen soon enough."

Victor knows it's only a matter of time before he can no longer control his impulses. Yuri's intentions are out in the open now, so it's only a matter of time before Victor's resolve falters-- before he accidentally unearths to the world this secret that he's managed to keep buried for years, a secret that's left him breathless in the dark with an unsated aching desire more times than he can count.

The silver-haired skating legend blinks and takes a deep breath, willing himself to ignore this nagging feeling that the air is being stolen from his lungs.

"I'm sorry, Yura."

Victor watches as Yuri's face briefly contorts in pain, then blanks out with a sullen indifference. He's afraid to touch the blond now, afraid he'll get slapped away. But his fears are overruled by his grief; he steps forward and gives Yuri a one-armed hug, pressing a kiss to the boy's mint-scented hair and releasing him before he has a chance to respond.

It's enough. It'll have to be.

He picks up Makkachin's crate-- the fluffy brown dog is now whimpering softly at the sound of Yuri's indignant yelling-- and turns on his heel to head to his gate. Yuri's screaming "FINE, I HATE YOU! FUCK!" at his back, making every head turn around them.

But all Victor can remember, all that's echoing in his ears, is what the boy had said a few minutes earlier, voice breaking into a sob, almost inaudible over the din of the airport.

"Victor, don't leave me. Please.

"I love you."


End file.
